


21Stormpilots

by ectoviolet, spectrenico



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, F/M, Implied Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoviolet/pseuds/ectoviolet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrenico/pseuds/spectrenico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, they're all hanging out and someone says, "Let's start a band."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tear in my Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if there are others but I wanted to make a stormpilot band AU! The working title is a play on one of my favorite band names. This is going to be a long one, but we'll see just how many chapters it gets to along the way.
> 
> (beta'd by redjadegem, listed as a co author bc tbh they gave me the idea and their proof reading really polished my lumpy coal of a story into a diamond)

Finn moodily pulled his pillow over his head and prayed to whatever higher power existed that his roommate would shut up. Then, he could fall back asleep again--in that sweet five minute pocket of the snooze button before his alarm would go off again.

“You really think I care about your excuses?” Ben yelled from the next room; he’d have been audible even without the thin dormitory walls. In this moment, Finn didn't think he'd hated anyone more in his life.  


Then, his alarm went off. He pressed snooze again, groaned and slammed the heel of his palm into the wall. This didn't do much but produce a stream of equally loud and indignant swears. 

Since he wasn't going to get any sleep anyway, Finn crawled out of bed. He checked his phone again. An hour and a half before his first class. That would give him plenty of time.

Finn didn’t have breakfast before he left because of two things: firstly, he foolishly picked out the university meal plan for credit swipes instead of grocery dollars. The first reason led immediately to the second reason, which was that there was absolutely nothing on his side of the mini fridge. Being a scholarship student, Finn didn’t have much in the way of spare cash to do anything with other than get the thousand dollar textbooks he already struggled to afford.

But he was working on a solution to that.

It was about an hour before the earliest morning classes, so plenty of people would be frequenting the square. So Finn got his guitar out and placed the open case on the concrete in front of him.

He played to no one, and everyone. Some people didn’t even seem to acknowledge him as they walked by. Others gave him an appreciative nod and started walking in tune to the beat of whatever he was strumming. And some--these people Finn loved the most--smiled wide ear to ear and dropped a bill or handful of change into his guitar case.

He didn’t particularly like busking, but he didn’t particularly dislike it either. It was nice to get the practice, the attention, the money. He didn’t like the way some of the other people in his program looked at him, though. Someone once called campus security on him because they “thought a homeless guy had snuck on campus”. So, yeah. Definitely some annoyances.

But he didn’t let that ruin it for him.

And, there was always this girl. She must have had a 7:30 class because she always walked past him at the same time every day, a little before 7:15. She would always drop a 10, consistently, and would never meet his gaze. She’d tap the bag she had slung over her shoulders in time with the beat whenever she got near enough to hear, and while walking away. She didn't smile, but it didn’t bother Finn. He could tell she appreciated the music.

Today, she was on time, as usual. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her dark eyes fixed on him briefly, but distantly. She reached into her bag on cue, but stopped. Finn kept playing, he was in the middle of Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz. It was a pretty fun song, but it sounded better with background percussion. She’d stopped right in front of him, and was frantically rummaging through her things. Finally, visibly upset, she dropped a 5 in his case.

"Sorry,” she said.

He didn’t like to stop the song, but he felt like he ought to. “What? No, that’s fine,” he said, still playing. “More than most people give. Thank you, for… appreciating the music.”

She looked embarrassed. “Yeah, you--you play good.”

She just stood there, fidgeting for a moment. Like she wanted to say something.

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Do you, um, have a request?”

“I have to get to class,” she said, but made no move to accomplish that.

Finn was no longer focused on the song. "What’s your name?” he asked, just as the girl said “I’ll see you in class.” She didn’t answer his question before walking away.

Finn just stared after her. “See you in class?” Not that he would notice her presence, since every lecture hall held a few hundred students, a conservative estimate. But as he looked after her, he realized she was walking in the direction of his first class of the day: music theory.

He also noticed that she was kind of really cute.

The traffic in the square had slowed, and Finn was sure he wouldn't be able to concentrate with thoughts of the girl on his mind. So he decided to pack up early.

He put the few bills he had collected from the morning in his wallet and placed his guitar back into the case. He slung it over his shoulder and was ready to head to class when…darkness.

It was like someone had thrown a blanket over him. Except, when he wrestled himself free, it was much smaller than a blanket. With sleeves. A jacket.

It was brown, felt like leather. Not pleather, like the still-too-expensive dress shoes Finn had worn to his prom. But real, actual leather.

It had fallen from the sky.

He frantically looked up, hoped no plane would come crashing down after it, or something else lethal to smite him for admiring something that wasn't his. That couldn't, by any feasible stretch of the imagination, ever be his. Not while he was already piled high in debt.

Nothing but the clear, bright blue sky beamed back down at him. The buildings around all looked dead and empty. And hey, Finn wasn't religious, but he'd heard all the time about God working in mysterious ways. Maybe God thought he'd worked hard enough and deserved this jacket he'd never be able to actually afford. On one of his trips to the city, he'd seen a sleek leather jacket in the fashion show mall almost exactly like this--except shinier, and black--and wanted it more than anything. The clerk practically sneered at him from across the store when he tried it on. Anyone who looked at him could tell he wouldn't be able to afford it. Finn glanced around once more, and guiltily put the jacket on. Just to see. 

It was so soft. The inside of the sleeves were lined with some kind of fur, and the way it sat on Finn’s shoulders made him look almost buff. He couldn't resist the urge to flex a little. He felt like a rock star.


	2. Tear in my Heart (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see the way people look at you here. Like they’re better than you, just because you’re playing.” She gestured broadly. “Out there. But you’re playing for the people. You’re closer to the music than they’ll ever be. That’s why you sound so good.” She paused here, for effect. “So, yeah, I absolutely want to jam with you.”

Music theory was a huge class that packed the lecture hall. People either took it because it was a requirement for their major, or because it sounded really easy and satisfied a full semester credit. It wasn’t the kind of class that you needed to be a top student to pass. When Finn pushed through the doors into the huge room his eyes, immediately began to search through the crowd. Usually he would keep his eyes downcast and try to just blend in; take a seat in the middle, mark the attendance sheet passed around and keep to himself.

 

Not today. He even found himself ready to push a few people out of the way to keep up his search. Though, honestly, it was completely futile. ‘Brown haired white girl’ wasn’t exactly a description that stuck out.

 

Even though he tried not to care, Finn felt eyes on him as he moved between the seats. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like being seen. He wanted, more than anything, to sit down and blend in. And honestly, that’s what he was about to do. Until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

 

He turned, and like a miracle, she was there. She had a strange look about her now, a sort of twinkle in her eye.

 

“Looking for someone?” she asked, as if she didn’t know the answer.

 

He smiled. “Not anymore.”

 

The pressure of the eyes only intensified, so Finn and the girl went to sit down towards the back of the lecture hall. In the time Finn had spent looking for her, his usual seat was filled up.

 

“I’m Rey,” she said. She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, that Finn could tell, and there was a sheen across her forehead that could have been sweat.

 

Finn extended a hand, and they shook. “I’m Finn.”

 

She hummed, and wiped her hand on her jeans. “Sorry, sweaty.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“So, how long have you been playing?”

 

The professor began their droning lecture but neither of them paid any attention. Even though, yeah, they probably should have. Finn couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “A long time,” he said, realized how he’d paused to stare and hoped she hadn’t noticed. “Probably since I was like, eleven, I don’t know.”

 

They sat in silence, still neither paid attention to the lecture.

 

Finn cleared his throat. “So, what’s your major?”

 

“Ballet.”

 

“Nice.” He looked at her again. She was lean, but not skinny. Her biceps were thick and her calves were toned. She clearly had a dancer’s body. She also had a dotting of freckles across her nose and shoulders, the latter of which were clearly visible in her sleeveless white crop top. He was about to say something else, maybe his major, but Rey leaned towards him with this conspiratory look in her eye. Immediately he forgot anything he wanted to say.

 

“I play, too,” she said. “An instrument, I mean.”

 

“Really? What?” Before she could answer, he cut her off. “Wait! Let me guess.”

 

She closed her mouth and leaned backwards in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. “All right.” Finn looked her up and down. He reached for her hand, and grabbed it. She jolted back a bit and started to tear it away, but when he turned her palms upward she stilled. “What are you doing?”

 

He didn’t answer, but traced his fingers over the callouses on her palms. After a moment of tense silence, he said, softly, “Percussion?”

 

She just stared at him and drew her hands back to herself. She hummed, again, but this time it was more of an appreciative sound. She reached into her bag, hesitantly, and took out some sandy colored and slightly weathered drumsticks. “Percussion,” she repeated in a tone of agreement, and tried but failed to not sound overly impressed. She didn’t ask how he knew.

 

Instead, she said, “We should jam some time.”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Come out on the streets with me, hit on an empty paint can. We’d really rake in bucks, the pair of us.” He smiled wryly when he said it, but her expression was stone.

 

She said, “Definitely. But not a paint can. It wouldn’t make the right sound.”

 

He really didn’t know how to respond, so he just fell silent. He could see some of the other students whispers already. It was childish, and he really hoped the cliques would have stopped in high school, but he knew it was odd. A dance major mixing with a performance major. A performance major who’d switched from music technology and music education before that. Really, Finn had no idea what exactly he wanted to do. He just knew that he loved playing.

 

Rey either didn’t notice, didn’t care, or both. From her messy bun to her calves Finn could see her attention was focused very clearly on her studies. Which led to the question. Why was she talking to him?

 

As if she could hear his thoughts (a terrifying idea considering how many times he’d thought she was cute within the past five minutes), Rey tapped his arm. Even though he was already paying attention to her. “I see the way people look at you here. Like they’re better than you, just because you’re playing.” She gestured broadly. “Out there. But you’re playing for the people. You’re closer to the music than they’ll ever be. That’s why you sound so good.” She paused here, for effect. “So, yeah, I absolutely want to jam with you.”

 

Finn swallowed. The way she talked, it was like he was some street performing artist only out there to make a statement. Not a scholarship kid trying to eat. 

 

He smiled, thinly, turned away so she didn’t see. When he turned back to face her, it was wider, more genuine. His heart beat, and he could feel it quicken when he met her unfaltering gaze.

 

“Well,” he said. “We’ll have to see what you sound like. How good you are.”

 

X

 

Naturally, she was really, really good.

 

She played on an overturned recycling bin, just to show him, out in the square. She seemed nervous, but she tried to hide it by how hard she hit the bin with each tap.

 

A small crowd, no more than about five people, had begun to form. Finn knew not to waste the time and had his guitar out quicker than he knew what to play. Rey had slowed and looked up at him, eyes wide. “What do I play?”

 

Finn strummed his guitar experimentally. “I don’t know. What do you like?”

 

She hummed something, a few tunes to get the melody, and began going at the bin with a merciless speed. “Tear in my heart,” she said, almost inaudible, but Finn already knew it, it was something he’d played a few days ago as she was walking past.

 

When they started, the crowd only got bigger. Ten or so people gathered in a little circle around them. Finn sung the lyrics, or at least the ones he could remember, and a short tanned woman with long dark hair started to film him. She said something to the man behind her, a huge smirk on her face, and when that man stepped forward oh wow, he.

 

He was.

 

Really.

 

Attractive.

 

Finn hit the wrong fret--he knew to keep going, knew to act like it never happened, but none the less his fingers stumbled over the strings and he forgot a whole chunk of the notes that came next. The man was thin with an average build, dark curly hair and olive skin. His face was symmetrical like a sculpted bust. Beautiful. 

 

And he looked at Finn, locked eyes with Finn. Took another step forward, reached into his pocket.

 

Finn knew he screwed up at least twice more, hoped it wasn’t as noticeable, because he knew he just wasn’t focused. How could he be focused with this dude two feet in front of him, trapped and drowned in his intensely dark eyes?

 

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. Then, weirdly, he stepped back.

 

Finn glanced at Rey, who was focused on the drums, wrapped up in the first time exhilaration of being filmed. Clearly she was not used to being loved by any crowd, but she broke away from the experience long enough to look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

 

Finn looked back at the man, who pressed the dollar bill into the back of one of his friends and wrote. When he was done, he stepped back up to the plate. They didn’t lock eyes again, but he dropped the dollar in the middle of the guitar case and retreated. He nudged the woman, murmured in her ear. Finn deflated, but locked it away. A girlfriend, probably.

 

They left. Finn and Rey finished the song, and played a few more. She was fantastic, kept up like they were soul mates, only fell out of the beat a few times. Finn surged with energy, adrenaline. Like he was sixteen again and singing Wild Horses outside the arcade across from his prep school. 

 

Rey was mesmerized, rubbing her drumsticks between her fingers. “That was amazing,” she said. “They loved us. They filmed us. Do you think we’ll be on YouTube?”

 

Finn had been on YouTube once or twice. Each video he’d found had gotten a couple thousand hits. “Sure.” But he was on his knees. He dug through the case, inspected each bill.

 

Rey said, “Oh, you’re looking for--”

 

“Yeah.” Finn found it. He held up the bill, scribbled over in ink.

 

“It’s pretty cool Poe Dameron saw us play, right? I think he liked us.”

 

Finn paused and looked up at her. “Who?”

 

She shifted where she stood. “Dameron.”

 

“You know him?”

 

“No.” A disappointment settled over Finn as she said it, which he hated, because, why was he disappointed? Why did he even care? “But um, a lot of girls in my classes talk about him. He’s kind of a big deal or whatever. Why? What’d he write?”

 

“Nothing,” Finn said, impulsively, even though he hadn’t read it. He spread the crisp bill between his finger tips, and Rey maneuvered around him to peer over his shoulder.

 

_ 212 555 5555 _

_ nice jacket _

 

Finn felt his face heat up as Rey let out a short, surprised laugh in his ear. “My jacket? Why’d he focus on that? What does that mean?”

 

Rey drew back and shrugged. “Why are you asking me, I don't know. I saw it the same as you.”

 

Finn stared back down at the bill. He shoved it in his pocket, a different one from all the others. Then, he thought, oh.

 

“Here.” He extended a wad of bills to Rey. “Your share.”

 

She looked at it, as if she didn't understand. “What?”

 

“Your half of the money.”

 

“Oh, I don't need it,” she said. “I just wanted to play.”

 

Finn felt his already hot face burn. “Neither do I,” he lied. “But this is how people show appreciation. So take it.”

 

She looked at him, but seemed to not  be really affected by the whole thing enough to argue either way. “All right,” she said. She took the money.

 

Finn thought back again, to the note.  _ Nice jacket _ . The jacket that wasn't his.

  
Maybe he should give the number a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should come quicker than this one! Thanks for reading and leave a comment + kudos if you liked it please, it really motivates me!


End file.
